


The Nine Lives of Mister Whiskers

by princemito



Series: Seattle AU [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bakery worker makki, First Dates, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mild Language, These two are just so dumb, bee allergy, youth counselor mattsun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 18:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6969055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princemito/pseuds/princemito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takahiro works in his parents' bakery and often takes leftovers to a nearby hospital. One day, he meets a guy who works there, and dang is he great with kids. It only takes nine encounters to go from being strangers to being in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Nine Lives of Mister Whiskers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IceMakeSnake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceMakeSnake/gifts).



> This is my first time writing these two and it was a challenge, so I hope I did okay! This was a lot of fun to write regardless, and a huge thanks to Snake for sorta encouraging this (even tho we had that conversation, like, a month ago lol).
> 
> That being said, I did start writing this a month or so ago and didn't go back and re-read it, so if you see any typos (or continuity errors) let me know! I really appreciate it!

The first time he saw him, it was after hearing him the moment he walked through the doors, and continuing to hear him as he carried out his business. He kept waiting for it to stop, but it just kept going. It wasn’t awful singing, but it wasn’t great, and it definitely wasn’t the sort of thing that would pass as a lullaby

Takahiro Hanamaki was dropping off some leftover cakes at the nurses’ station in the pediatric wing, checking his watch and wondering why, at eight o’clock, they were allowing such a noise. The young nurse shook his head at Takahiro’s confusion.

“The kids love it,” he said with a shrug.

“I guess if it makes them happy,” he replied. He was curious, though; the singing wasn’t great, but it was unique. He wandered down the hallway toward the commotion.

And that was when he saw him. He had never seen someone so large seem so…small. The way he sat on the toddler chair, his knees drawn up close and his back hunched, a softness in his eyes as he looked at the children in front of him. They gazed up at him, silently entranced with his singing.

He must have sensed Takahiro’s eyes on him from the doorway and he looked up.

Takahiro wasn’t sure what his face was saying at the moment, but whatever his expression was, it caused the other man’s voice to trail off. He stared at Takahiro, his lips still parted and brow slightly furrowed.

One of the children tugged at his pant leg. “Issy, what is it? Why’d you stop?” she asked.

He turned his gaze back to the child and smiled softly. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said, and then started the song where he’d left off.

Takahiro watched him for only a moment longer before he turned to leave.

That was the first time he saw him, but he would make certain it wasn’t the last.

 

The second time he saw him was a few days later and it was earlier in the day. He had made some deliveries nearby and thought he’d stop by the hospital with some cookies he had “accidentally” messed up that morning. He wasn’t sure what the chances were he’d see the horrible singer again, but he decided to stop by the pediatric ward anyway.

He was greeted by the same young nurse who seemed to always be around but Takahiro just could not remember his name. “You’re here earlier than usual,” he remarked.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he admitted, glancing down the hallway as he handed the box of cookies to the nurse. He was saying something else, but Takahiro ultimately was not interested in him and walked down the hallway. He peeked into open doors until he found what he was looking for.

Sitting in the middle of the floor in the playroom was the man from the other day. A child was sitting in his lap, a picture book open in front of them. He looked up, and instead of just staring this time, he smiled.

Takahiro thought his heart stopped.

The smile was so warm and inviting, a chocolate éclair. 

The child closed the book and stood up. “Issy, is that your friend?” he asked.

The man shook his head and ruffled the child’s hair. “No, but I’m sure he could be,” he said. He looked up at Takahiro and waved him over.

“Stranger danger!” the child yelled and ran out of the room.

Takahiro hesitated just inside the door, looking back toward the nurses’ station momentarily. “Don’t mind him,” the man said, and Takahiro’s attention was focused back on his voice.

“Your speaking voice is much more pleasant than your singing voice,” he said.

His lip tugged into a small pout and he looked up to the ceiling and hummed thoughtfully. “Then I wonder why the kids don’t like it when I read to them.”

A little girl was passing by the door and stopped. “That’s ‘cause you do stupid voices for the characters, Issy,” she said.

He frowned. “They’re not that stupid,” he said.

“You can’t make the cute little kitty sound like an old man,” she said. “It’s gotta sound like a cute kitty!”

Takahiro watched the exchange as the girl walked in and the man—Issy?—crouched down to get on her level. “Well, what do you think a cute kitty sounds like?”

“I dunno,” she said, kicking at a block that was on the floor. “Definitely not like an old man, though.”

“What do you think?” he asked, looking up at Takahiro.

The little girl looked at him expectantly and he was filled with an overwhelming duty to not let her down. He cleared his throat. “My name is Whiskers and I like tuna fish,” he said in a falsetto.

The little girl smiled. “See?” she said, turning back to the other man. “He knows how a cute kitty should sounds!” She walked over and hugged Takahiro’s leg. “Thanks for teaching Issy how to do it right, Mister Whiskers,” she said, and then ambled out of the room.

Takahiro watched her go, somewhat dumbfounded, and when he turned back to the other man, his hand was over his mouth in an attempt to keep in his laughter.

“ _Mister Whiskers,_ ” he wheezed.

Takahiro felt his face beginning to heat up. “Shut up,” he said.

“What’s your actual name?” he asked.

“Hanamaki,” he said. “Takahiro Hanamaki.”

“Hmm, Makki,” he said, and the way it rolled off his tongue and through his lips did weird things to Takahiro’s insides. “I’m Issei Matsukawa. The kids call me Issy and my friends call me Mattsun. I’m one of the youth counselors here. I usually work with teens, but the kids down here are so great.” He smiled and it warmed Takahiro’s heart.

“I bring leftovers from the bakery I work at,” he said, thinking it sounded lame in comparison.

Mattsun’s eyes lit up. “So _you’re_ the one that’s been bringing all those goodies!” he said. “They’re delicious!”

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “I brought some cookies by today and left them with the nurse.”

“Oh, Tadashi?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so?” The name sounded vaguely familiar, as if he had read it on the nurse’s nametag at some point.

“Good call. Some of the other nurses will keep them for themselves.” He looked past Takahiro and must have caught sight of a clock. “Ah, I’ve got an appointment soon. Gotta run!” He clapped Takahiro on the shoulder as he passed and walked briskly out of the room.

He stood there for a moment and licked his dry lips. What an interesting fellow. Far too interesting to be interested in Takahiro, though. He sighed and figured it was time he head back to the bakery.

 

The third time that Takahiro saw Matsukawa, it wasn’t at the hospital. He had actually been avoiding the hospital and let one of the part-timers take the leftovers. He always had a habit of getting himself too worked up over guys and it never ended well. He had only actually been single for a couple weeks and it was kind of ridiculous that he was even interested in anyone. Something about Matsukawa was different, though, and that explained why when he entered the bakery on a Thursday afternoon, Takahiro dropped an entire cake and fled to the back room. He’d get an earful from his dad later, but that wasn’t a current concern.

By the time his heart stopped racing and he went out to deal with the mess he made, Mattsun was gone.

“What did that guy want?” Takahiro asked the part-timer.

They shrugged. “Just browsing.”

 

The fourth and fifth times happened on the same day. Takahiro was ready to call an ambulance for himself, his poor heart couldn’t take it. He was piping cream filling into some maple bars when his dad of all people came into the back. His parents owned the bakery, so that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

“Hiro, someone’s asking for you out front,” he said.

“I’ll be right out,” he answered as he finished off the row. It wasn’t unusual for customers to ask for him specifically; he made some really gorgeous cakes. He wiped some rogue cream on his apron and pushed through the swinging door.

Thick eyebrows and a lazy smile greeted him. “Good morning, Makki,” Mattsun drawled. 

His brow immediately grew damp and he had to fight the urge to flee to the back. Matsukawa was a customer, after all, and what kind of service would that be? “Are you stalking me?” he blurted.

Mattsun laughed and it was a magical sound. “Yes and no,” he answered after a moment. “I needed to pick up some donuts for a staff meeting, and I’ve been really impressed with the leftovers you guys bring to the hospital, so I thought it was only fair to give you some proper business.” He leaned on the counter, his dark hair shining with the morning light coming through the window. “I also just think you’re really cute. But that has nothing to do with the need for pastries.”

Takahiro tried to ignore the compliment but the redness of his face only confirmed that he had heard it. He shuffled around to the display case and asked with a rushed voice, “What kinds did you want? And how many?”

Matsukawa followed him around and leaned down to inspect the varieties. He made his choices and Takahiro went to ring him up. “I’d also like to place a delivery order for this afternoon if that’s possible,” he added.

“Of course! To the hospital?” Matsukawa nodded. “What did you want?”

He ordered an assortment of sweet buns and a simple cake. 

Takahiro gave him his total and confirmed the order for later. Matsukawa thanked him, paid, and left.

Takahiro couldn’t focus the rest of the morning.

That afternoon, he packed up Matsukawa’s order, along with a few extras, and headed out for the delivery. It was the end of his day, after the delivery he would be done, and he idly contemplated what he would do with his evening as he walked the two blocks to the hospital.

The delivery was to be taken up to Matsukawa’s office, where Takahiro hadn’t been before. He was a little nervous; it was almost like being invited into someone’s bedroom, but it somehow felt more personal. Matsukawa seemed like the kind of guy that put his everything into his work, one of those people who really loved what they did and did what they loved. 

He found his name plaque easily and it looked like he shared the office with a few other people. He knocked on the unlatched door and it swung open slowly. “Hello? Delivery!” he called, poking his head inside.

Takahiro didn’t think that this man could get any more attractive, but the glasses perched on his long nose and the way his leg was crossed over the other at the knee as he sat at his desk proved him wrong. He swallowed thickly as Matsukawa looked up and smiled. “Makki!” he said, putting down his book. “I wasn’t actually expecting you to make the delivery yourself.”

He stepped into the office and put the boxes down on the desk. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked, nervous and suddenly on edge.

“I just haven’t seen you making deliveries lately,” he commented off-handedly as he opened the cakebox and smiled at the contents. “It looks great.”

“Good,” Takahiro replied, stepping back toward the door. “Thanks for your business.”

“Ah, would you like to stay?” Mattsun asked, pushing himself to his feet. “We’re having a little get-together, some of the other counselors. Just a little thing. We’re allowed guests.”

Takahiro took a couple more steps back. “Oh, uh, sorry, I can’t. I’ve got plans tonight.” He was lying. There was nothing in his near future but maybe his couch and some Netflix. “Thanks, though. Maybe some other time.”

He nodded. “Alright, then. Some other time. It was pretty last-minute.”

Takahiro licked his lips, and with nothing else to say, left the office. He closed the door behind himself and leaned against it with a sigh. He didn’t even hear Matsukawa get up from his desk and nearly tumbled backwards when the door opened behind him.

Mattsun seemed just as surprised that he was _right there_ and placed a hand on his back to steady him. “Sorry!” he said. “I just wanted to give you a tip for delivering.”

Takahiro stepped away from his touch, his face burning. “Ah, that’s not really necessary,” he said. “You tipped well enough this mor—” He was cut off by Matsukawa’s lips on his cheek. It was soft and quick and when Matsukawa stepped back, Takahiro saw that his face was red, too.

“Thanks again,” he said, and closed the door so suddenly that Takahiro flinched.

Takahiro walked out of the hospital as quickly as he could, though he figured it was probably the best possible place to be if he were to suffer from sudden cardiac arrest.

 

Takahiro sat on the floor in the backroom of the bakery, his head between his knees and his fingers laced together over the back of his neck. It had been a couple weeks since their last encounter, and he was beginning to believe that he’d never see Matsukawa again. And that was fine, he told himself. He didn’t need to be seeing anyone. He had too much going on in his life as it was. Work kept him busy and it was getting close to wedding seasons. He wasn’t even sure if he was over his ex yet or not. To be fair, though, he hadn’t given him much thought lately, and he had Matsukawa to thank for that. But even if he did decide to pursue something with the youth counselor, he didn’t want him to be a rebound.

“Hiro, are you back here?” his father asked from the doorway.

He didn’t say anything, but he looked up and the movement caught his dad’s attention.

“I could really use your help out front,” he said, a frown worrying his brow as he looked over Takahiro’s hunched form.

Takahiro got to his feet with a groan. “Yeah, sorry,” he said.

“You doing okay, son?” his dad asked.

“I’m fine,” he answered, rubbing his eyes. “Just tired.”

“Have you been sleeping okay?” He followed his son out into the service area.

Takahiro gave him a shrug and smiled at the customers waiting at the counter. “I’m fine, Dad,” he said again, and got to work.

His shift dragged on, his father hovering and constantly asking if he was sure he was okay. It was still an hour until closing time when his dad flipped the sign on the door and locked up.

“What are you doing?” Takahiro asked.

“Closing early,” he answered. “We probably won’t get a whole lot more business tonight, anyway.” He paused and closed the blinds on the front window. “And I want you to tell me what’s bothering you.”

It was the last thing that Takahiro wanted to do, but knew that he’d be stuck here all night if he didn’t talk. He slid into one of the booths and sighed, poking at the crumb-covered plate their last customer had left.

His father slid into the booth across from him, a soft and understanding smile on his face. Takahiro’s parents had always been so supportive of him, even when he came out to them at 15, or when he tried to leave the family business when he was 18, only to end up back at the bakery and in their basement five years later. They were always there for him, and sometimes it was suffocating. “Boy problems?” he asked.

Takahiro rested his chin on the table with a frown. “How’d you know?”

“Well, you just got out of a relationship, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, and that’s okay, that’s fine. I just… I feel bad being over it already,” he said.

“Hmm,” his dad answered thoughtfully but unhelpfully.

“There’s this guy that I’ve run into a few times,” he said. “He works at the hospital. I haven’t seen him in a couple weeks.” His face reddened as he thought about their last meeting; his dad didn’t _really_ need to know about that. “I’m not really sure he wants to see me again, though…”

Before his dad could give him any thoughts, the phone rang. He looked over at it and probably would have just let it ring, but Takahiro wouldn’t let him.

“You can get that,” he said. “Since we’re technically supposed to still be open.”

His dad nodded and got up, reaching over the counter to answer the phone. After a moment, he looked back over at Takahiro. “It’s for you, Hiro.”

He gave his dad a quizzical look but got up and walked over. “This is Takahiro,” he said.

“Makki!” the voice on the other end greeted him. It sounded tired. “It’s Matsukawa. I’m glad I caught you at work.”

“What do you want?” His voice came out more hostile than he intended and he instantly bit his lip.

Matsukawa seemed surprised by the hostility and it was a moment before he responded. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve called,” he said.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that to sound so angry.”

He heard Matsukawa sigh on the other end and when he spoke, his voice was lighter. “Well, I wanted to apologize anyway. For the last time we met. And for the tip I gave you.”

Takahiro licked his lips and could feel his face starting to burn. He shot his dad a look that caused him to retreat to the backroom. “It’s okay,” he said. “It was a most generous tip.”

Matsukawa chuckled and Takahiro had to clutch his chest in an attempt to calm his heart. “Anyway, uh, what are you doing this weekend? I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go see a movie with me, maybe.”

The nervous cadence coming from Mattsun gave Takahiro a weird sort of confidence. “Sounds tempting,” he said, his lips threatening a grin. He had to keep his cool, though. “I mean, I’d have to check my schedule and get back to you.”

“Yeah, no,” Matsukawa said. “That’s cool.”

“What’s your number?”

Matsukawa gave it to him and said, “You can text me, too, if you want.”

“Okay.”

“I should let you get back to work.”

“Oh, we’re actually closed already,” Takahiro said.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ll let you go anyway. To check your schedule.”

“Okay.”

“Bye, Makki!”

“Bye, Mattsun.”

He hung up the phone and buried his burning, grinning face in his hands. It was a moment later that his dad returned from the backroom.

“I take it that was him?” he asked, bagging up some of the leftovers.

Takahiro nodded, his face still hidden.

His dad handed him a bag. “Want to take those over to the hospital?”

He uncovered his face to look at his dad, his good, kind, ever-enabling dad. With the bag of leftover baked goods in hand, he set out for their sixth encounter. (It was brief, just a glance not even a word shared, and maybe Matsukawa didn’t even see him, but it still counted)

 

“I’m sorry I kissed you,” were the first words out of Matsukawa’s mouth during meeting number seven. “It was horribly unprofessional of me.”

“I already said it was fine,” Takahiro said, standing up from where he had been sitting while he waited. “I was just…surprised.”

“Me, too,” Matsukawa admitted.

“You were the one that kissed me! How were _you_ surprised?”

Matsukawa shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “I just didn’t think I would actually do it.”

“Well, you did,” Takahiro said, his hands in his pockets as they began to walk toward the box office. “And I don’t think I’d mind if you did it again,” he mumbled.

Matsukawa didn’t quite hear him and leaned over to ask, “What was that?”

His face was so close that Takahiro couldn’t resist kissing his cheek with a flustered grin. Matsukawa blinked in surprise, his eyebrows shooting up momentarily before settling back down into a full-faced smile so soft that Takahiro wanted to wrap himself in the feeling of it and sleep for a century.

They walked out of the movie two hours later and Takahiro honestly couldn’t say what it had been about; good thing it wasn’t one he had actually wanted to see. 

Matsukawa was busy critiquing it as they walked out of the theater and into the lamp-lit parking lot. While Mattsun had been watching the movie, Takahiro had been watching him and falling in love with intense attentiveness. “What did you think?” Matsukawa asked.

“It was alright,” he said. 

“Ah, not a movie critic, I see.” Matsukawa bumped him playfully with his elbow.

“It didn’t really hold my attention very well.” Takahiro’s eyes had hardly left his date the entire evening, and now that they weren’t in the dark theater, it was pretty obvious. 

Matsukawa caught his drift and smiled. “Oh,” he said.

They silently stood on the sidewalk outside the theater for a minute.

“Wanna grab some dinner?” Matsukawa asked.

“Sure.”

“Any preference?”

Takahiro shook his head. “I’m not picky,” he said.

“It’s not like you’ll pay much attention to the food, anyway,” Matsukawa joked.

“How could you expect me to pay attention to anything else when the view’s so breath-taking?” The sappy words flowed out before he could stop himself and he blushed, his eyes dropping momentarily, but he couldn’t keep them averted for long.

Matsukawa was looking away, though, biting his lip as his shoulders shook.

“That was awful,” Takahiro admitted.

“I wasn’t going to say it.”

“You can say it. I can take it.”

He looked at Takahiro out of the corner of his eye and grinned. “It was pretty awful.”

At the end of the night, they both considered the date to be a success, and Takahiro eagerly accepted the proposal for a second one. He walked home with an extra bounce in his step and a small but glowing smile on his lips where they still tingled from the parting kiss. He was thankful his parents were already asleep when he got home, because he wasn’t willing to share this happiness with anyone. Not quite yet, anyway. It was the small bit of smoke at the beginning of something new, and he didn’t want to risk smothering it.

 

It was supposed to be their second date, their eighth encounter, but as Takahiro waited outside the bakery half an hour after close, Matsukawa was nowhere to be seen. They had agreed to meet there before going to wherever they ended up going—Takahiro liked the unplannedness of their outings. He had expected him to show up as the shop was closing, even though he had told him it might take a bit to close up, but now that he stood there, he was beginning to get nervous. They had just texted earlier that day and solidified their minimal plans, so it wasn’t like he had forgotten. Maybe he had an appointment go long or something.

> Waiting at the bakery

> Need me to meet you somewhere else?

He stared at his phone until the screen turned dark and then dropped his hand to his side. He didn’t want to put it back in his pocket in case he missed a notification. The sky was still light but the moon hung dimly above the surrounding buildings and Takahiro suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of sadness for the moon and for the loneliness that only it would know. He sat down on the ledge of the bakery’s front window, his phone in hand, and waited.

 

He woke up early the next day having slept horribly that night. He sent a few more texts at various points, but still hadn’t heard anything back. His dad was already up and baking and had a pot of coffee on. Without a word, Takahiro grabbed a cup and got to work.

Later that morning, when everything had been prepped, Takahiro grabbed a box of donuts.

“Where are you going with those?” his mother asked as she arranged some items in the case.

“I’m taking them over to the hospital,” he said, his voice dry from its lack of use.

She looked over at her husband with a frown, but he just shrugged. “Get back soon,” she said. “We don’t have anyone else coming in until nine.”

Takahiro nodded and left.

At the hospital, he heading straight for the pediatric ward first, figuring it would be better to run into him there than interrupt something going on in his office. He stopped at the nurse’s station and dropped off the donuts with a simple greeting, then walked down the hallway. He poked his head into the playroom, but only a couple kids and a nurse were in there. A little girl looked up and saw him, and he recognized her as the kid that was giving Matsukawa a hard time about his reading voice. She smiled and walked over, the nurse keeping a wary eye on her as she approached the stranger.

“Mister Whiskers, you came back!” she said as Takahiro knelt down to get on her level. “Issy’s voices still need some help, maybe you should talk to him again.”

He smiled, and in his kitty voice he said, “He’s just a big goof. I’ll go talk to him right now! Do you know where he is?”

The girl shook her head and looked back at the nurse. “Issy was s’posed to come play with us today, but we got her instead.” She leaned in close and whispered, “Her voices are even worse!”

Takahiro tried not to laugh at the nurse’s expense, but he gave the girl an apologetic smile. “Well that’s no good,” he said, using a different. “No good at all.”

She giggled and took his hand in both of hers, tugging him slightly. “Will you come read to us?” she asked. “I wanna hear more of your voices!”

He pat her head with his free hand. “I’m sorry, I can’t today,” he said. “Maybe another time, though.”

She frowned but still hopeful. “Okay,” she said, letting go of his hand. “Bye bye, then, Mister Whiskers!”

As she wandered back over to the nurse, Takahiro stood up and left the playroom.

Out in the hallway, Takahiro caught sight of the freckled nurse and he strode over to him. “Hey,” he said. “Tadashi,right?”

The nurse turned around and smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “Sorry, I don’t know your name… You’re from the bakery, though, right?”

He nodded and properly introduced himself before asking, “I’m looking for Matsukawa. I haven’t heard from him since yesterday and I’m a little worried…”

Takahiro watched as something clicked the in nurse’s mind and a coy grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Oh, so _you’re_ why Mattsun has been particularly bouncy lately,” he said.

Takahiro’s eyes glanced off to the side and he shrugged. “I guess,” he said.

Tadashi turned back to what he was doing with a small smile and kept talking. “Well, I haven’t seen him today. He usually comes down for a bit before his morning appointments, but I’m not sure where he is today. Do you know where his office is?”

Takahiro thought back to that first unexpected kiss and tried to contain his blush. “Yeah,” he said. “I went up there once.”

“Well, maybe try checking for him up there. If he’s not in, one of his officemates might know what he’s up to.”

He nodded and thanked the nurse before heading back toward the elevators. Part of him was saying he should just drop it, that Matsukawa didn’t want to see him, and that going up to his office would be wholly inappropriate. Another part of him kept obsessively checking his phone with nothing but worry on his mind. It was the proactive part of him, though, that pressed the button up to the office level when he stepped into the elevator. A thought crossed his mind that he didn’t particularly want to meet Mattsun’s officemates, but his need to know where he was—if he was okay—was far outweighing that discomfort.

The door to the office suite was closed and he mentally braced himself as he knocked. Someone moved around inside and after a moment, the door opened.

An unfamiliar woman blinked at him. “May I help you?” she asked, her voice soft and polite.

Takahiro shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, slouching slightly, and felt severely inferior to this pantsuit-clad lady. “I’m looking for Matsukawa,” he said.

“He won’t be in today,” she said, her face unreadable.

“Oh,” Takahiro said lamely. “Do you know why?”

She frowned. “Who did you say you were?”

“I’m sorry. I’m Takahiro Hanamaki, I work—”

“Oh _you’re_ Makki!” she said, cutting him off. Her suspicious aura faded as her lips tilted into a knowing smile. “Mattsun’s been talking about _you_ for weeks.”

“I, uh…”

Her frown returned. “I guess he wouldn’t have been able to tell you…”

“Tell me what?”

“Oh, he had a bit of an incident yesterday…” She glanced down the hallway nervously as if she was about to expose some secret. That made Takahiro nervous. “I think he’s still down in the ER.”

Takahiro felt every one of his internal organs sink into the lowest point in his stomach and he wasn’t quite sure how they didn’t find their way all the way down to his feet.

“He’s okay, though,” the woman rushed to add. “He’ll be fine. He’ll probably get released this afternoon if he hasn’t been already.”

Takahiro took her hands in his. “Thank you,” he said, and rushed off.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he heard her say before she retreated back into the office.

He had no idea where he was going, but after following signs and asking around, he made his way down to the ER. The woman at the desk didn’t seem to care who he was and directed him to where Matsukawa was still bunked up.

So the eighth time he saw him, Matsukawa was red-faced and gowned, but was still somehow one of the most beautiful things Takahiro had ever seen. His whole face looked swollen, and his eyes cracked open when he heard Takahiro approaching. “Makki?” he asked, his voice hoarse. He sat up a little bit, the tubes from the IV swaying.

Takahiro dropped to his knees at the bedside. “What the fuck happened?”

“Sorry I missed our date,” he said with a smile. “I got a little tied up.”

“Shit, Matsukawa,” he breathed. “What happened?”

“I’m apparently allergic to bees.”

“What?” The swelling made sense, then. Even his hands seemed thicker than usual as he brushed his fingers through Takahiro’s hair.

“I stopped at a flower stand on my way to the bakery, and I guess the little guy didn’t like that I wanted to give you his flower…”

Takahiro stared at him a moment, his eyes blinking slowly as he felt the laughter coming up from his gut. He leaned his forehead onto Matsukawa’s arm as his own shoulder shook. “Idiot.”

 

It took Matsukawa a couple more days to recover from his near-death experience. Takahiro learned that he had never actually been stung by a bee before, so he had no idea that he was allergic. Takahiro, however, quickly ran out of fingers trying to count how many times he had been stung. Matsukawa was never far from his phone and while Takahiro went back to work that morning, they were in constant contact.

“You should come over tonight,” Mattsun suggested when Takahiro called him during a break.

Takahiro didn’t immediately know how to respond to the invitation.

“I’m still not feeling great enough to go anywhere, but a movie sounds nice. Plus I’m lonely.” His voice was nearly a whine and while it should have annoyed Takahiro, it really just tugged at his heart.

“I guess,” he answered, giving a shrug that Matsukawa couldn’t see but he could surely imagine. “I should get back to work, though.” And with that he hung up and tried to contain his excitement.

“Have a good break?” his mom asked with a knowing smile.

Takahiro grinned and gave her a kiss on the cheek before getting back to work on a cake he was decorating.

Matsukawa texted him his address, and when Takahiro got off, he opened it up in his maps app to find that the apartment building was only a few blocks away. He practically ran there.

He knocked on the door and suddenly felt like he had forgotten something. After all, Matsukawa had gotten stung by a bee while buying flowers for him, and here he was showing up empty-handed. Before he had time to turn around, though, the door was swinging open and Matsukawa greeted him with a small wave. His eyes were tired and he looked a little pale, but the swelling was completely gone. “I’ve got dinner started,” he said as he leaned over and kissed Takahiro’s cheek, taking his hand as he did so. He closed the door behind them.

It seemed too early for dinner, but Takahiro wasn’t about to refuse a home-cooked meal from someone who wasn’t his mother. “You’re looking better,” he said as he kicked off his shoes.

“I still feel kinda shitty,” he said with a sigh. “But I’m going back to work tomorrow.”

“I bet the kids miss you,” Takahiro commented as he followed Matsukawa into the kitchen. It smelled amazing, and he told Matsukawa as much.

“It’s not often that I get the time to cook,” he said, stirring something in a pot. “Plus I felt like I owed you for standing you up the other night.”

Takahiro leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like it was your fault you almost died.”

“True,” he answered. “But you must’ve worried. You seem like a worrier.”

Takahiro scoffed. “No,” he said. “My father’s a worrier. I, however, am not.”

“Hmm, Kiyoko tells it otherwise.”

“Who?”

“My officemate. She told me all about how you showed up all worried about me.” He looked over his shoulder with a smile that ignited the tips of Takahiro’s ears. “She said it was quite charming.”

“Okay, so I was a little worried,” he admitted. “I’m not a worrier, though.”

Mattsun waved it away. “Whatever you say,” he said, voice still a little hoarse but somehow sing-songy. He turned back to his cooking.

Takahiro wandered over and put his chin on Matsukawa’s shoulder. “What’s cooking, anyway?”

Instead of answering, Matsukawa held up the wooden spoon he was using to stir whatever was in the pot. “You don’t have any allergies, do you?”

Takahiro blew on the proffered spoon and gave an ironic smile. “Not that I know of.” He sipped it and his entire soul was warmed. “Mmm…”

“My dad’s recipe,” he said. “It technically calls for a crockpot, but who even has those these days?”

Dinner was delicious and Takahiro didn’t want to stop eating, but he was pretty sure his stomach would explode if he took another bite. He sat back in the flimsy IKEA chair with a content sigh and looked over to see Matsukawa looking quite pleased. Without a word, Matsukawa got up and started clearing the table. Takahiro grabbed his plate and followed him into the kitchen, where he set it down on the counter. Matsukawa had his back to him, and open invitation to wrap his arms around his waist and press a kiss into his shoulder. He relaxed back into him and set down the dishes he had carried in with a content sigh.

“Thanks for dinner,” Takahiro said as his hand was covered by Matsukawa’s. “If you had warned me, I might’ve brought some rolls that would’ve complimented it greatly.”

“I’ll remember that for next time,” he said, running his thumb over Takahiro’s knuckles. He turned himself in Takahiro’s arms and put his own arms over Takahiro’s shoulders. 

Takahiro found himself thinking that if nothing else good were in the world, the smile on Matsukawa’s face could easily be the one thing to keep Takahiro alive.

“Takahiro Hanamaki,” he said, his lips forming slowly and carefully around each syllable and Takahiro hung onto every single one. “I think I’m in love with you.”

And it was then and there, the ninth time that Takahiro saw him, that Issei Matsukawa killed him. Pulled his heart right out of his chest and sent his soul straight to heaven. He felt light and blessed and warm, as if a sun was shining in his chest and pulling whole new worlds toward him. He didn’t even have to think, he _knew_ that he was in love, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come say hi on Tumblr ([tiredasahi](http://tiredasahi.tumblr.com))!!!


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